The Secret Life of Phan
by derpette-Waffle
Summary: So they've admitted they love each other... then what? - ((Sequel to Fanboy but can be read alone.))
1. Chapter 1

We decided to keep it a secret from everyone; not just from our viewers, but from friends and family, too. There was enough speculation about the two of us to begin with, from the fans and from anyone who really knew us at all. I guess I make it way too obvious that I'm just as smitten with Phil as the day I laid eyes on him –cheesy enough for a greeting card but all too embarrassingly true. I'm pretty sure Phil likes it, though –that I'm still so infatuated like a lovesick schoolgirl. It makes me cringe sometimes, but then I remember exactly who it is I'm fawning over and it's like, "oh yeah, no wonder."

I was sitting in my room, in some crippling position with my laptop as I scrolled aimlessly through my dashboard. I was sort of blind to all the pictures and the occasional text post blurring by as I skimmed a bit too quickly, but I didn't really plan on reblogging anything, either. I was sort of killing time until I had to film. I could hear Phil through the wall, making his own video. We really need a second tripod.

Despite what most fanfiction –which I do read on occasion- say, just because we're in a relationship does not mean we're sharing a bedroom, let alone a bed. I've created a bit of a conundrum with how it's painful to be apart from Phil, and yet I still feel I need my own space. That's not to say we don't love to cuddle and all that, and share beds for that kind of thing, and on occasion we will spend the night together, but it probably doesn't help that we haven't had sex yet.

But hold on, you might ask: two young, attractive bisexuals, living in the same flat and just a doorway apart from the other, had been friends with benefits for a time, always best friends and now dating for three months, and they haven't had the sex? YES, I KNOW –I get enough of that from myself every day. And at night I only think about it more, think about what sex with Phil would be like, fantasize while I took care of the problem myself –it's a workout, really.

And I don't know why we haven't had sex. I do –Phil isn't ready. He's not a virgin, not even a "with a guy" virgin; the things I knew firsthand that he could do with his mouth had to be expertly fashioned. I didn't quite understand it, but I'd just remind myself that I didn't have to understand it: I love Phil, and I just accept that he doesn't want to yet. (A sweet kiss and "You just let me know when you're ready.")

The door creaked open and I perked up, setting my laptop aside and waiting curiously. My room was always open for Phil to come and leave as he pleased, but he was moving unusually slow coming in. When I could finally see his head peak around the edge of the door, he looked tired. I glanced at the time: half past midight. The night was young for someone who would spend the next three hours on the internet, but Phil wasn't as nocturnal as I am.

He dragged his feet to the bed and collapsed down into it, curling in on himself slightly. I hopped up to put my Macbook away and returned to lie down next to him. He scooted closer, pressed against my side now. He was warm and I was happy.

"Have you finished filming or are you taking a snuggle break?" I smiled, staring at his face. I knew that one was probably as likely as the other, but he looked so tired he might fall asleep in my bed tonight, and it wouldn't make sense to film on two different days. He'd set aside today for that, and I wanted to maybe just do something tomorrow. And by 'do something' I mean not do anything, because that's what we do: we do nothing, but we do it together.

He nodded and laced his fingers between mine, slipping into sleepy fidgeting as he tried to stay awake enough for this conversation. "Kind of. I don't think it came out okay, I'm gonna have to try again."

I shook my head a bit and tightened my hold on his hand. "I'm sure it's fine, they're gonna love it. Don't go stressing yourself out over little things."

He smirked at me, eyes blinking drearily. "You're one to talk, staying up all hours trying to make everything just right. Procrastination and perfectionism is a deadly combination, Daniel."

"Fuck off," I laughed, leaning in for a chaste kiss.

"No really, when did you promise your subscribers you would have the next video up by?"

That was probably my most fatal flaw and the reason I always got complaints when I upload two, three days later than everyone was anticipating. I cleared my throat nervously. "Er, Friday," I mumbled.

He laughed and I hit his arm defensively, but I couldn't help but smile, too. His laugh was angelic, and he was too tired to try to cover it up so I was lucky enough to catch that adorable tongue thing he does that makes me melt. I couldn't help but kiss him again. "Not funny."

"Dan, you can't get a video filmed and uploaded in two days." I buried my face into the sheet, embarrassed. He understood and reached a hand out and rubbed my arm, soothing me. "I know you always intend to get them up when you say you will, but you've admitted to being a hopeless procrastinator. Why do you even tell them?"

"They're always asking and I like to give them something to look forward to. I mean, if they're watching my videos, they probably have nothing better to do."

He shook his head and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me to his chest. I smiled against him and relished the warmth and just the closeness. Phil always had a sort of calming presence that I'd grown to know well and fondly over the last few years, with everything that was going on. When life gets hectic, it's nice to have that one thing you know is always going to be there waiting after a long day; we were each other's constants in life, and I couldn't wish for anything better.


	2. Chapter 2

I had really wanted to just hang out with Phil the next day, but I had a video to make (damn it). It wasn't even that I didn't have an idea for a video that I actually wanted to make, I just didn't want to make it today. One, I was being nagged into uploading something, and naturally the minute I'm told to do something I was already planning to do, I immediately don't want to do it.

I sat up, yawning and groggy, and looked back down at Phil. He'd fallen asleep in my bed and made an excellent pillow as always. I watched as his eyes started to move under the lids before they opened sleepily. I smiled and ruffled his hair. "Morning," I laughed as he limply swatted my hand away and buried his face into the pillow. "What's wrong?"

He didn't seem to want to answer. I rolled my eyes and decided to guess. "Still tired?" The pillow bobbed back and forth as he shook his head. "Just feeling lazy this morning?" Another negative accompanied by a pathetic groan. "You're not sick, are you?" I scooted away from him, not wanting to catch whatever he might have.

Phil blindly reached out, flailing an arm and telling me to stop teasing him. I smirked just a bit, and realization hit. "You slept in your contacts, didn't you?" I pulled the pillow off of him to see him squinting his eyes shut, face scrunched up in discomfort. "You wouldn't be having this problem if you'd remember to get the ones that are safe to sleep in. You're an adult, do things."

"That doesn't make sense," he whined, opening his eyes grudgingly. I rubbed his shoulder, honestly feeling bad that he was in pain.

"Well now you get to use your very sore eyes to stare at a computer screen for a few hours while you edit your video. I hope that will teach you a lesson."

He groaned again, and I could tell he really didn't want to do that now, but he knew he had work to get done. Sympathetic, I leaned down to kiss his forehead. I didn't necessarily want to remind him, but it would be funny. "Remember you also said you'd help me edit mine, too."

"Ugh, tomorrow, though. You have to film it first. When are you going to buy your own tripod, again?"

He got me there, even if he was only joking. "When I do; and my camera isn't working. I ordered a new one, but it hasn't come yet, so…"

"Go ahead, borrow mine." He seemed irritated that I didn't ask him properly, but he needed to get out of my room if I was going to film a video. I couldn't exactly have my secret boyfriend sleeping on my bed over my shoulder and put it out there for three million people to see: that would just be asking for it. I nudged his shoulder and he rolled over on me. I pouted and nudged him again. "What?" he groaned. "It's on the table next to my bed."

"Babe, you have to get out of my bed if I'm going to be filming in here; and if I film somewhere else I'll be bombarded with questions about it." I patted his side. "I'll make you some cereal but you have to get up. And get your contacts out before it gets worse." I stood and started for the kitchen, letting him set his own pace in waking up, for now.

He came out a few minutes later, and by then I already had the cereal and coffee made. I turned to him and smiled, and got a small one back. His eyes were puffy and a little red, looking irritated and very sore. I pressed my lips to his cheek, instinctively wrapping and arm around his shoulders to pull him just a bit closer. I like being taller; it had its perks.

"Breakfast is all ready for you. I'm gonna get to work –have fun editing."

I was glad I did have an idea in mind; it made things g by so much quicker and more smoothly. I didn't have any difficult planned for the editing, mostly just cuts and some creative arrangement of one bit. If Phil really was going to help me out, I maybe could get it up before I started getting hassled about not uploading again. I look over at the clock: it's only a little past noon –I feel accomplished.

I moved to take the camera off the tripod, but it didn't want to cooperate. Strange –it had never gotten stuck like this before. Was it messed up or was I somehow losing whatever little strength I might have had? Frustrated, I gave it a yank, but it didn't budge. I tried again, harder this time, and-

Fuck fuck shit fuck shit.

It somehow not only came off the tripod this time, but managed to fly right out of my hand (I didn't throw it, it flew!) and hit the wall. I could only watch in terror as it broke into pieces and dropped to the floor. I managed to pry my hands off my mouth as I reached for it weakly, stepping toward its shattered remains.

This was not good. This was not good at all. If it was my own camera I could kind of just brush it off and order a new one, but no; mine had already been broken so I borrowed the one my boyfriend had bought himself for his birthday, the one that he really liked.

"Dan! I don't hear any recording going on, are you finished?"

Nerves on fire, I somehow managed to choke out and answer that he wouldn't have been able to hear if the walls weren't so very thin. "Yeah," I croaked.

"Then come on, let's see what we're working with."

Of course then I felt really bad that he was helping me edit, not only when he had editing of his own to do but when I'd (accidentally!) thrown his brand new camera against a wall. I approached the corpse of the device and plucked out the memory card, still intact with everything I needed. I gathered up the smashed bits of the camera and his them in the drawer next to my bed. He didn't need to know yet.


	3. Chapter 3

We didn't talk about the missing camera until my new one arrived a week later. I was doing a sort of accomplishment dance through every room in the house until I wound up in Phil's bedroom, where I found him internetting in silence until I came through the door. He pulled his ear buds out in favor of what I had to say, but I figured he would regret it.

"I got my camera, don't have to borrow one," I sort of sang, horribly off key and rhythm but not caring as I waved the box around. "Now I can decide when I'm gonna put off recording, and you have no say in it." I was only teasing, and he understood that as always. Sometimes I'd say things that are rude or uncalled for, but that's just how I interact with people –and Phil's one of the only people I really interact with.

"I'm glad you're gonna be twenty-three in a few months and you successfully ordered a camera off Amazon," he smiled, setting his laptop aside and reaching for the drawer next to his bed.

I plopped down on the mattress. "What're you doing?" I asked absently, watching him dig around, apparently searching for something.

"Looking for my own camera –we can compare, see whose is better." He couldn't seem to find it –shame, mine was now better by default. He looked deep in concentration for a moment, trying to remember where he'd last had it. A look of realization dawned. "I leant it to you, didn't I?"

I blanched. Fuck, I'd somehow forgotten about his brand new camera that had decided to go all kamikaze Spiderman on me. I stuttered out the most convincing lie I could think of. "N-No, I gave it back to you, remember?"

He frowned and shook his head. "I don't remember that. All I remember getting back was the memory card to help you with your video. Dan, where's my camera?"

I didn't answer, just stared at him with wide, nervous eyes. When he moved to get up off the bed, I hopped up to stand between him and the door. He could've gone around me, but I had already made it all too obvious that I was guilty of something. "Don't you wanna check out mine…?"

"Yes, I'd love to, as soon as you tell me where mine is." He tried to move around me, but I blocked his way again. He glared hard and I felt very small. "Dan, where did you put it?"

I sighed shakily, no choice but to admit defeat. I ran my hand over my reddened face and mumbled an answer. "In the drawer next to my bed…"

He stepped around me to get to my room; I didn't bother getting in the way now, just followed quietly behind. "I'm sorry," I said before he could've even seen it. I got to my doorway and watched as he examined the battered camera body, trying to turn it on only to find it wouldn't do so. I went to hide away in the lounge.

* * *

He said he wasn't angry, but that had to be a lie in some regard because he wasn't speaking to me.

In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have justified trying to keep it a secret by bringing up how long it took him to tell me about losing my Mario Kart game. He'd numbly replied that we were even, then, but neither of us believed that. I should've just told him, he's my boyfriend for fuck's sake. And he knows what a klutz I am so the true story behind this isn't even unbelievable. It wasn't breaking that camera that had upset it: it was the fact that I tried to hide it.

I looked at my own new camera, still in the box. I couldn't bring myself to get it out; I felt sick just looking at it where it sat on the desk, still in the packaging.

Phil was still hidden away in his bedroom like he had been all evening, not wanting to talk and keeping his door closed, which wasn't a good sign. He was really upset with me and had every right to be. But this new camera that had arrived could be a truce, a peace offering.

I picked it up and headed to his room, knocking on the door, ready to be turned away. "Phil?"

"Come in."

I opened it up and looked at him, finding him in the same position as I had earlier. He didn't look upset, but he didn't smile either. I missed that smile already. I moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed, box in my lap before I set it in front of him. "I'll order myself a new one," I said quietly, smiling and hoping he would, too.

He returned the small smile and leaned forward, reaching to turn my head and kissing me sweetly. "You don't have to do that. I just wanted an apology, but this is enough for me. I love you."

I smiled and kissed him again, stroking his cheek. I didn't say it back this time: I didn't need to.

When we managed to pull away from each other, Phil seemed a bit uneasy. "I'm sorry I probably overreacted… I didn't mean to get so upset with you, I-I know it was an accident. I… I should probably stop keeping secrets, too…"

I was about to ask him what he meant, what was wrong, when he got up off the bed, slowly, almost reluctantly moving to his wardrobe and digging around inside. I watched curiously.

When he stood back up he was holding something. He sat back down next to me, and didn't look at me as he handed me the object, burying his face in his hands. I looked down to what had been placed in my lap: a plastic container with seven columns, divided in two with letters marking days of the week at the top, and twelve rows. Inside the boxes were tablets of different shapes and sizes and colors.

I winced at first; I'd known he was medicated for years now, but I had only ever stumbled upon one bottle. How many prescriptions could all these be coming from?

I had to suppress a smile, though. This was a big deal, and he finally felt comfortable enough to let me know. I didn't doubt that he trusted me before, but this wasn't something that was easy to admit.

I looked back at him, putting a hand on his shoulder and gently coaxing his face out of his hands. He wasn't crying, but visibly upset and looked almost like he wanted to. I didn't ask any questions, and he didn't say anything. I set the container aside and pulled him in close, holding his head against my shoulder and letting him feel comforted. He was always being strong for me; for once I could return the favor.


End file.
